


Inopportune Pining - AU Teaser

by eckcro, Editor_C



Series: Murkoff Institute of Technology [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, Deviates From Canon, Eddie is different from canon because he got help for his mental illness earlier in his life, M/M, Murkoff Institute of Technology, edited from RP, they don't kiss or anything they're just hopelessly pining and are too scared to say anything, this au is very self-indulgent in general but we have fun writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eckcro/pseuds/eckcro, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Editor_C/pseuds/Editor_C
Summary: Eddie and Waylon know each other from theater club, but haven't interacted much beyond that. Still, they've both taken up a shy interest in the other, though neither of them have been able to work up the courage to say anything.Then Waylon's roommate, Miles, is hospitalized trying to stop Blaire from assaulting Waylon. Eddie pays Waylon a visit in hopes of comforting him and getting to know him better.





	1. Waylon POV

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited version of a roleplay between editor-c and eckcro on discord.
> 
> With this AU, we're trying to keep the characterization reasonable based on what we know from canon, though Eddie is admittedly greatly inspired by To Be Well by tenuous (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327392/chapters/30504957).
> 
> We will be roleplaying more snippets from this AU in a recordable format in the future, and editing them to post.
> 
>  
> 
> \-----
> 
> Waylon POV written by eckcro  
> Eddie POV written by editor-c

A polite but insistent hand raps on the door. Waylon groans as he gets out of bed, Miles’ absence weighing on him heavily as he shuffles to the door. He peeks out of the peephole, surprised to find Eddie’s broad form waiting there. A trill of nervousness travels down Waylon’s spine. It’s ridiculous to feel this way, given the situation. And yet, for all that’s changed, Eddie is still The Perfect Man. The Perfect Man, standing right outside Waylon’s door.

Steeling his nerves, he unlocks the door and pulls it open, smiling weakly at Eddie.

“H-hey Eddie.” He swallows. “Thanks for... dropping by... and bringing—“ he gestures at the brownies. “You didn’t have to.”

He’s blushing. He can feel the telltale heat in his face, and hopes that Eddie doesn’t notice. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t, or at least, he doesn’t seem to. If he notices, he politely keeps it to himself. Eddie smiles at Waylon, the kind of smile that makes Waylon weak at the knees. Of course, it’s just Eddie’s normal smile. The one he regularly gives to people at rehearsals, and likely in class. Still, Waylon can’t help but feel blessed, just seeing Eddie’s soft expression.

“It was no problem, Waylon. It’s the least I could do. Would it be alright if I come in?”

Eddie’s voice cuts into Waylon’s thoughts, quickly pulling him back to the present. Waylon opens and closes his mouth a few times, not quite believing what’s happening, not quite trusting himself to speak. After a nerve-wracking moment, he finds his voice.

“Yeah, of-of course.” He steps back and holds the door open for Eddie, feeling his heart lodge in his throat. Waylon bites the inside of his mouth to ground himself, trying to stop himself from blubbering as Eddie comes in.

The room isn’t as neat as it usually is, and Waylon finds himself trying to apologize, or make excuses, or just, anything really. Surely Eddie’s judging the pile of dirty laundry in front of the overfull hamper, and the dirty dishes left carelessly on Miles’ desk.

“Sorry about the mess, I uh... wasn’t expecting... visitors...” Waylon’s voice trails off weakly, his own words sounding pathetic in his ears.

“Do you wanna. Sit down?” He pulls out the chair from his desk, offering it to Eddie. “I mean, if you’re staying. You’re probably visiting a bunch of us today, huh?” Man, he should stop talking. This is just embarrassing.

Waylon forces himself to keep his expression as neutral as possible as Eddie’s gaze travels around the room.

Eddie doesn’t give any outward signs of disapproval, though Waylon knows it’s probably because he’s simply too much of a gentleman for that. There’s no way Eddie _isn’t_ internally berating Waylon for letting his room become a pigsty. Waylon relaxes fractionally when Eddie accepts the offered chair, gingerly perching himself on the edge of it. Well, at least Eddie hasn’t decided visiting isn’t worth it...

Placing the brownies on the desk next to him, Eddie leans forward and begins speaking, answering the question Waylon almost forgot he’d asked.

“I am, but that’s no reason I can’t stay for a while. I feel like we haven’t gotten the chance to talk to each other very much before or after the, ah, recent incidents.” Eddie sits back slightly. And frowns. Just a little.

The sight of Eddie’s slight frown does nothing for Waylon’s already-frayed nerves. He nervously chews his bottom lip, not sure how to proceed. His anxiety is only further compounded by Eddie’s displeased energy, though Waylon knows it’s not aimed at him. But is he ready to have this conversation? Clearly, Eddie wants to talk about it, and even if he hadn’t done so much for Waylon — for the whole group, really — it’d be difficult to deny him. Still, talking about it, out loud, without the safety of a screen, well... the next few minutes might be some of the hardest of the week.

What a cruel irony: Eddie Gluskin, noticing him. Eddie freaking Gluskin in Waylon’s room. And Waylon wants nothing more than for him to leave. If it weren’t so depressing, Waylon would laugh.

“Yeah, I guess we haven’t...” Waylon paces awkwardly before carefully perching on the edge of Miles’ bed.

He shoots Eddie an apologetic look, giving him a strained half-smile. Then, Waylon ducks his head and focuses his gaze on his lap. God, he’s so bad at this. Not for the first time, Eddie’s presence alone is enough to make Waylon want to sink through the floor, to disappear. With both of them dancing around such a heavy topic, though, the feeling is magnified tenfold.

Eddie shifts the chair until it’s facing Waylon, and the younger man experiences a brief spike in anxiety. It’s quickly quashed, Waylon sternly telling himself to calm down. The more nervous he gets, the worse this entire interaction will go.

And then, Eddie’s opening his mouth again, clearly stepping in to save the conversation. Man, is Waylon ever dropping the ball on this one.

“I was glad to hear that Miles is stable and will be returning to campus soon. In the meantime, I know it might still feel unsafe to be in your dorm alone. If there’s anything I or anyone else can do, just let me know.” Eddie pauses, a careful expression taking over his face.

Waylon sees Eddie’s expression and does his best to fortify himself against reacting to whatever Eddie might say next. The last thing he needs is to make Eddie feel guilty, especially when it’s not his fault. Especially when Eddie’s going above and beyond, basically holding Waylon’s hand through this conversation. Hell, even just being here. Just… _all_ of this.

“Blaire has committed his most extreme acts of violence against you. It is truly despicable, but I don’t want you to think that is the only reason I am here right now. In truth, I‘ve found you to be a delightful individual from the moment I met you. It is unfortunate that these are to be the circumstances that we first talk at length under. Rehearsals and fittings haven’t really qualified.”

Waylon blinks quickly. He glances up from his lap, flashing a quick look of disbelief before returning his attention to where his hands are playing with the hem of his shirt. A few steadying breaths help him focus on the tail end Eddie’s words, disbelief mixing with hurt. The strange kind of hurt. The kind that manifests as a dull ache. The kind that’s entirely his own fault.

He... doesn’t doubt Eddie’s honesty; Eddie is too good of a person to lie. Still, Waylon can’t help but wonder if he’s exaggerating a little, for Waylon’s benefit. Certainly Eddie is at least fond of everyone he meets, unless they give him a reason to dislike them. So clearly, he doesn’t... _like_ Waylon, not really. Waylon reminds himself that Eddie has plenty of friends, plenty of fans. Some nobody like himself may be big news today, but even then not through his own actions. Through Jeremy’s. Always Jeremy.

A person like Eddie has no reason to spend time with him, not after this all blows over. Waylon will go back to being a nobody, and getting close to Eddie will continue to be an unattainable pipedream.

It’s so hard to keep that in mind, with Eddie right here, but he does it. Forces himself to hold it right below the surface of his thoughts. Eddie is a gentleman, and he’s extending this kindness out of a selfless concern for anyone being hurt. Waylon isn’t special in this. So many other people are hurting right now, will be hurt — he just happens to have been victimized the most recently.

“Thanks Eddie,” Waylon manages to croak out. “This really... means a lot to me. But, I’ll be fine.” He lifts his head to shoot Eddie another weak smile. A small, sad chuckle makes it way past his lips.

Eddie is quiet for a long, long moment. Terribly long, soul-crushingly long. Waylon swallows thickly and watches Eddie out of the the corner of his eye.

Finally, Eddie seems to come back out of his own thoughts and responds.

“My offer stands as long as you need it.” A pause, then, “How are you feeling about the quilt tomorrow evening? Do you think you know what you’d like your addition to be?” 

Waylon wants to tell Eddie exactly how he feels, about all of it, not just the quilt. He wants to pour his heart out, wants to crawl into Eddie’s lap and hide until Blaire is gone for good, wants to-to...

It’s useless, thinking about what he _wants_. The truth of the matter is that he can’t do any of that, isn’t interesting enough to even hold a conversation with Eddie. God, poor Eddie, coming all this way only to be met with a barely-verbal Waylon. Eddie has better things to do with his time. He has other people to visit, to comfort, friends to reassure. Waylon finds himself desperately hoping to end this encounter as quickly as possible. Eddie will go on his way, and won’t have to work at coaxing pathetically short answers out of Waylon.

“I... haven’t really decided. But I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He prays his statement sounds certain and determined instead of just pathetic.

Of course, regardless of how it comes across, Eddie’s own reply is ridiculously polite, endlessly sincere.

“That’s alright; you don’t have to know just yet. I’m sorry if my question made you feel pressured— I was simply curious.”

Waylon’s eyes widen fractionally. Eddie doesn’t need to apologize. If anything, it should be Waylon apologizing. For taking up his time, for being complete shit at simple interactions. If Waylon felt even a little more comfortable, he’d tell Eddie that there’s no need for that. Eddie’s doing everything right, and Waylon… everything wrong. Really, though, Waylon knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Eddie’s always thinking about others, always trying to accommodate them. That’s Eddie, always so considerate. Sometimes too much so. It makes Waylon feel guilty, somehow, like he’s taking advantage of Eddie’s kindness.

“No, you’re fine. I...” Instead of finishing the sentence, Waylon lets it trail off into a polite cough. He’s not even sure Eddie heard him anyways, because the next thing he knows, Eddie’s asking him about his major.

”What is software engineering like? I’m not much of a technology person, but I can appreciate the skill needed for the craft. I have been in the process of setting up my portfolio website for the past three years,“ Eddie chuckles, and Waylon’s heart flutters madly in his chest.

“At this rate, it’ll be done once I’ve retired.” Eddie finishes and closes his mouth, slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Waylon musters up the energy needed to laugh at Eddie’s joke. It is kind of funny, and given a more casual setting, a less... nerve-wracking situation, he might have actually smiled at it. As it is, he’s far too focused on not totally screwing up, which effectively muscles out any room for genuine mirth.

“Oh yeah, software engineering? It’s... well, it’s fun. I mean, it is for me. Computers are just... they’re easy. If-then. And-or. You never have to guess what you’re gonna get, if you know the formulas. You just plug everything in and the computer does exactly what you need. Every time. And— sorry, I’m rambling.” Blood rises in his cheeks as Waylon licks his lips nervously and clamps his jaw shut. He internally kicks himself.

Eddie probably doesn’t care, and oh jeez, Waylon hopes he’s not boring him. Stupid!

Waylon quickly switches tracks.

“What about you? How’s, uh, illustration?”

“No, no, I enjoy hearing about new things! Especially from someone with as much passion for it as you.” Eddie’s assurances, though meant to soothe, only serve to make Waylon feel worse, because surely he’s lying. There’s no way in hell that Eddie really thinks that.

Still, Waylon’s blush darkens at Eddie’s words. And, well, the fact that Eddie just described him as having “passion for it.” Waylon can’t help the shy smile that forces its way into his face. Immediately, Waylon mentally berates himself for being so embarrassing. Especially the blushing. Definitely the lack of self-control. He _really_ needs to get a grip. Unfortunately, there’s little time to collect himself before Eddie’s speaking again.

“Illustration is going very well. We’re working on our portfolios and preparing for the internships next semester. My interests are mainly in fashion design — although I’m sure that’s not a surprise — and although that isn’t offered here, the fourth year gives Illustration students the freedom to hone in on their niche.”

Eddie is interested in fashion design, no surprise there. Although, yeah, come to think of it, it is kind of... odd, that Eddie’s here. It’s a tech school, and has no fashion design major. A part of Waylon wants to ask why Eddie chose Murkoff Institute of Technology, but another, louder part insists that it’ll come off as rude. It’ll seem like Waylon’s questioning his judgement, which is definitely not something he wants. Given all this, Waylon’s not exactly sure how to respond, so he’s glad when Eddie directs a question at him.

“What immersion do you plan to declare? I know many people like to pair their major with one that supplements or enhances their main studies.”

“I, um. I’m doing applied statistics. Seems useful.” He shrugs slightly, more a fractional raise of his shoulders than anything.

Waylon’s still only watching Eddie out of his peripheral vision, but he does manage to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s expression. He’s… smiling, a little. Unless Waylon only imagined it — a depressingly real possibility. Despite his doubts, when Eddie speaks, his smooth voice is tinted with the unmistakable sound of a barely-suppressed grin.

“I don’t think I’ve taken a proper math class since freshman year, though I do hear that statistics is the most useful math for your average non-STEM person. What do you plan on using it for?”

Waylon flounders for a moment before catching himself, realizing for the first time that there’s a dampness on his forehead, a claminess to his own hands. As soon as he notices these small details, his awareness of his own body sharpens exponentially. His heart beats loudly in his chest. A trickle of sweat is running down his back. Come on, reign it in. Focus.

“Um, yeah. Statistics can be good for everyday stuff.” Waylon pauses, thinking. Then he shrugs. “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be interesting. Miles says I should use it for card-counting though. Heh.”

Waylon goes quiet again, already regretting mentioning Miles. Great, now all he can think about is Miles in the hospital, bullet wounds sewn shut, IV drip in his arm. Stupid fucking Blaire. He blinks away tears, not wanting Eddie to see him cry. Waylon shouldn’t worry Eddie more than he already is. Suddenly, Eddie is picking up the plate of brownies and extending his arm towards Waylon, silently offering him one.

“Card counting? I recognize the phrase, but I can’t say I’m familiar with how it works.” Eddie sounds… at least a little bit interested. Okay, Waylon can work with this. This is an easy, non-personal question.

Waylon bites his bottom lip, timidly accepting a brownie from Eddie. He nibbles on a corner, not minding the crumbs falling onto Miles’ blankets.

“Card counting is for blackjack and, uh, similar games. Basically, it uses statistics to remove the uncertainty of the game and lets you win every time. If you do it right. It’s a neat trick, and I guess it might be cool to try with friends.” Waylon shrugs a little, smiling nervously. “Course, if a casino catches you doing it, they blacklist you, so…”

Waylon trails off, glancing off to the side. He’s rambling again. The answer to Eddie’s question is short, simple. Why is Waylon making it overly complicated? Why is he adding his own _emotions_ into what should be a rote definition?

Why can’t he just hold a conversation like a normal person?

Vaguely, Waylon registers Eddie putting down the plate. He seems to intentionally place it within reaching distance of Waylon, allowing him easy access. Gosh, even in the smallest things, Eddie is always thinking of others.

“Do you play cards often? Val likes to join the illustrators’ game nights and brings me along. You’d be welcome to join sometime — there are traditional tabletop games along with some electronic ones — and people from other majors are often guests as well.”

Waylon licks his lips nervously, thinking it over. It... does sound fun, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle hanging out with so many strangers. He can barely manage MIT Players, and that’s with Miles close by. Not to mention the more structured environment of a theater production. Cards with people he doesn’t know sounds like a recipe for disaster. Waylon’s sure he’ll make a complete fool of himself. He’ll say something wrong, or worse, do something wrong.

“Thanks for the offer.” Waylon takes a steadying breath. “I don’t usually play cards, but I’ll... keep that in mind.”

He feels awful for essentially declining, especially since Eddie’s going to all this trouble for him. And this really must matter to Eddie, because how many other people can say they’ve been invited to hang out with Eddie’s friends?

Still, Waylon’s having a hard time trusting that any of this is real. Good things like this don’t just happen to people like him. They just don’t. And he has to remember that. He can’t let himself get carried away, or lose sight of the truth: Eddie Gluskin is out of his league. Friend, boyfriend, whatever. It’s not going to happen.

Letting himself get his hopes up will only hurt him in the end. But just to make sure he doesn’t inadvertently hurt Eddie’s feelings, Waylon asks, “Could Miles come too?”

There, now he’s leaving open the possibility that he _might_ go.

“Of course,” Eddie says, smiling. “Anyone you want to bring is welcome to come. And as I said, there are other games if you’d prefer them. You could also watch if that’s more comfortable. Sometimes I accompany Val without joining and it is just as enjoyable.”

Waylon nods. He’d definitely expected that Miles would be allowed, and that Eddie would be incredibly sweet about the whole thing. Still, it’s nice, having that confirmation. Maybe he _will_ drop by sometime. Just for a little.

“That... means a lot. I— thank you.”

He feels like a broken record. All he can do is keep thanking Eddie, over and over. It must be so tiring to listen to. Waylon smiles at Eddie, embarrassed, and takes a few more bites out of his brownie.

“I look forward to seeing you if you decide to come.”

There’s a tech crew shirt laying on Miles’ desk, and Eddie gestures at it as he continues speaking. Waylon’s eyes follow Eddie’s gaze, sadness shadowing his face when he catches sight of Miles’ shirt.

“You and Miles are very close. How did you meet?”

A little personal, and somewhat disjointed from the previous topic, but Waylon supposes he _did_ being up Miles. He sighs, sad smile forming on his lips.  
  
“We actually met through a mutual friend. You know Simon Peacock? Well, yeah, we both knew him and kind of ended up hanging out.” He shrugs. “I guess we just grew on each other.”

Eddie nods slightly.

“Yes, we work together at the _Informant_. He’s a good student, and overall pleasant fellow. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s the one that introduced you to each other.”

Waylon isn't exactly surprised that Eddie knows Simon, but at the same time, he wasn't expecting it. Although, it's more of simply not having even considered whether or not Eddie and Simon knew each other. Waylon keeps them compartmentalized in different sections of his mind, after all.

Unsure of how to proceed, Waylon simply nods and makes a small noise of acknowledgement. He doesn't have anything interesting to say, and he hopes that Eddie will end the conversation and leave.

“We’re lucky to have Simon at the magazine. It’s a long way from New Zealand, but I’m glad he decided to come to here.”

Waylon nods. Of course Eddie has something nice to say about everyone. That’s just one of the things that makes him so… perfect. He stays quiet, since it wasn’t a question, he doesn’t really have anything to say.

“What made you choose MIT?” Eddie asks suddenly, though there’s genuine curiosity in his voice. Well, it sounds genuine, as far as Waylon can tell 

Waylon tilts his head to the side, wondering at what is now the second conversation shift. Eddie keeps completely changing the topic, though Waylon can’t fathom why.  
  
“Uh, well. It’s a pretty prestigious tech school. It was on my top three list. Then MIT gave me the most scholarships.” Waylon shrugs. “So, I came here.”

“I’m glad you did.” Eddie smiles, and though he’s never been one for religion, in that moment Waylon thinks to himself that Eddie must be some sort of angel. It’s sappy and cheesy, but he can’t help it.

“Rehearsals wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Waylon bites his lower lip, blushing at both Eddie’s words and smile. He ducks his head, warmth spreading across his face and ears.

“Th-Thanks,” he manages to get out, temples feeling like they’re crushing his brain, an overwhelming dizziness overtaking him.

A few steadying breaths later, Waylon lifts his head a little and grins awkwardly. “What about you? You’re not really a... tech person.” Immediately, Waylon’s blush returns full force. He hadn’t meant to word it that way; surely Eddie must think that Waylon’s judging him. Stupid! He should’ve said something about MIT not being known for its art programs, or-or-or—

He tucks his chin back down, eyes falling to the floor. Waylon worries the inside of his mouth and waits for Eddie’s response.

“I admit it wasn’t my first choice, but as a legacy student my application was given some level of preferential treatment, and the tuition nearly took care itself— aside from a few scholarships.” Waylon can’t see Eddie’s expression or body language, but Eddie doesn’t _sound_ upset, so. That’s something at least. “I don’t quite understand the purpose of ‘legacies’, but that’s what it ultimately came down to. MIT is a good school, even if they don’t have my preferred major exactly. 

Waylon nods, relaxing when Eddie doesn’t seem to take offense to his comment. He’s surprised to hear that Eddie’s a legacy, although to be fair he’d never really thought much about the older man’s background.  
  
“Ah, that-that makes sense.” Waylon finds himself frustrated at his own inability to come up with a better reply. While his ineptitude in the realm of socializing has always been inconvenient, he’s never quite felt it this acutely.  
  
Probably because Waylon’s never met someone as perfect and patient as Eddie.

“It’s interesting to hear everyone’s reasons for picking MIT. Such disparate backgrounds, and yet here we are, together. There’s something almost… magical, or fateful, about it—” Eddie cuts himself off suddenly, and when he continues it’s with an apology.

“I’m sorry, that must sound silly to you. I know you aren’t inclined to that kind of thinking. I’m just— I get so… my friends are very precious to me. I am grateful of their presence in my life everyday.”

Oh, Eddie… 

He’s so old-fashioned, but so, so charming. And he cares about his friends so much. And he’s honest. He’s gentle. Sweet. Perfect. Always considerate. Always apologizing for small things. But he doesn’t need to apologize, not for this. For believing in a kind world, a world as gentle and loving as him.

“No!” Waylon can’t help blurting out, head snapping up. Boy, he’s never wanted to disappear more than at this moment. Unfortunately, the most he can do is scrunch in on himself slightly, stumbling over his words as he hurries to elaborate.

“I mean, no, it-it doesn’t sound silly. Well, I don’t really believe in fate or magic, or y’know. But. That doesn’t mean—well, I don’t think it’s _silly_ or-or anything.” Even trying to explain himself is just making things worse. He should have known. He simply isn’t cut out for this kind of interaction.

This conversation is going so much more poorly than Waylon had expected. Not that he’d thought it would go well, but when he‘d seen Eddie at his door, he’d assumed they would have a short conversation in the doorway, and then Eddie would be on his way. Clearly, that didn’t turn out to be the case.

Honestly, being this awkward around Eddie — Eddie! Of all people! — is absolutely mortifying. Completely humiliating. Waylon feels like he could die.

When Eddie doesn’t respond, Waylon‘s anxiety spikes. Is Eddie really that offended? Did Waylon really fuck up that much 

“So, uh...” Waylon desperately casts his thoughts about, trying to salvage this situation. “How’s MIT been for you? 

“It’s been,” Eddie pauses, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Arguably the best years of my life. Not perfect— nothing is, I know, but it’s more than I could ever have hoped for. I have the opportunity to learn, explore my interests, and friends who care about each other. I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

Waylon nods along — and he’s been nodding a lot, hasn’t he? — blush fading slowly. It's relaxing, listening to Eddie talk. Talk about himself. It makes Waylon feel... well, he can't really put a name to it, but his heart seems to grow inside his chest, threatening to burst.

When Eddie calls it the best years of his life, Waylon finds his mind conjuring up an image of Eddie's home life, of how truly miserable it must have been, based on what little he knows of it. He pushes it away, because somehow that feels like a gross invasion of Eddie's privacy, despite the fact that everything he knows, he knows from Eddie. It just— well, it doesn't seem right, that Waylon should try to imagine Eddie's past. So he won't. Even if it's difficult not to 

Eddie continues, says how much of a privilege attending such a prestigious school is, and of course coming to MIT opens so many doors for him, is an incredible opportunity, but. Waylon can't help but feel that it's MIT, the people here, that are truly lucky. For having Eddie in their lives. For being able to meet him, to have the chance to know him.

God, Waylon wants to invite Eddie to come sit next to him, on Miles' bed, but that would be. Not great. Inappropriate. Suggestive, even. And certainly, Waylon does... like Eddie, of course he does but... now's definitely not the time to say it, imply it, or even think about it really. Still, it's hard to not want to lay down with his head in Eddie's lap, to feel Eddie's gentle embrace, to want the safety and warmth of being close to him—

Waylon locks in on those thoughts and shuts them down, refusing to let his mind hold him hostage like this. It's a wholly unattainable wish, and Waylon needs to force himself to accept it. Fully. Not just on an intellectual level, on an emotional one as well. He needs to stop thinking about Eddie this way. It's not fair to Eddie. Someone like Waylon doesn't deserve to even consider that Eddie might, by some stroke of pure luck, return his feelings.

"Well, I think everyone here's lucky to have you. I mean, er, everyone in the group. You're-you're doing so much. To help." Waylon tries to discreetly rub his sweaty palms against the sheets beneath him. This is so nerve-wracking. Yet another reason why he needs to kick the dream of anything more than an acquaintanceship with Eddie. He can't even function in a conversation with Eddie.

Eddie laughs a little, and Waylon flushes.

“I’m glad you think so. I only have two hands and 24 hours in a day, so I just do my best. Of course, you’re welcome to my time whenever you need it.”

Waylon’s heart can’t take much more of this. Having Eddie’s undivided attention is... well, it’s a lot. Part of him wants to simply bask in it, like a flower would the sun’s rays. Another part of him feels guilty, that he’s taking up Eddie’s time (though Eddie would hate to know this). His heart is beating quickly in his chest, but he tries not to show it.

“Th-thank you!” The words come out as more of a squeak than, well, words. Waylon’s face goes pink again.

If Eddie could please leave... just, go take care of other people, not bother with Waylon…

If Waylon could just tell Eddie how he feels. But no. He can’t risk that kind of rejection. And Blaire was right about one thing: Eddie will never, never, never return Waylon’s feelings. Plus, now is just a bad time. Waylon’s overemotional, and he wouldn’t even consider telling Eddie if he weren’t in an admittedly fragile mental state.

Waylon glances away when Eddie smiles and nods, feeling that looking at Eddie right now would be like staring directly into the sun. There’s a pause, and Waylon hears Eddie stand up as though to leave.

“Oh, I don’t believe you have my phone number. I could give it to you if you’d like. And I’d like to put yours into my contacts, if that’s agreeable.”

Waylon looks up at the sound of Eddie’s voice, blinking in surprise.

“Oh-oh yeah. That’s great. That’s, yeah. Uh, let me just—” Waylon slides off the edge of the bed. He grabs his phone off of Miles’ desk and moves to stand next to Eddie.

He opens his phone, pulling up his contacts and handing the phone over to Eddie. Eddie passes his phone to Waylon, and Waylon puts his name, number, and email into a new contact. Briefly, he wonders if Eddie will include his birthday, but dismisses the thought. They’re not _that_ close.

He finishes before Eddie, and discreetly watches him. There’s something almost comical about Eddie typing on such a small surface with such large hands, and Waylon finds himself smiling. When Eddie lifts his head and hands back his phone, Waylon quickly hides his grin and suppresses his small laugh. He can’t let Eddie know he was just watching him. Mostly, he can’t let Eddie think he’s laughing _at_ him.

“Thank you for allowing me to sit with you for a while; I’ll let you get some rest. I’m off to the UAA now. I look forward to seeing you there tomorrow.”

“Y-Yeah. Tomorrow. And thanks again. For visiting, and for the—” Waylon gestures at the plate. “For the brownies.”

“It was my pleasure.” Eddie’s voice is soft and sincere. Waylon bites his bottom lip to stop himself from breaking out into another smile when Eddie pretends to tip a hat in his direction. Eddie heads for the door, Waylon following even though it’s only a few feet away.

“Until tomorrow,” Eddie says, opening the door. Waylon waves shyly as Eddie leaves, finally letting the corners of his mouth turn upwards. The door shuts and Waylon waits a second before locking it. He lets out a shaky breath.

Hands shaking slightly, Waylon checks his phone. Eddie did not include his birthday.


	2. Eddie POV

Eddie arrives at Waylon and Miles’s room holding a plate of freshly baked brownies. The doorbell doesn’t make a sound when pushed, but he knows the light inside will have flashed. He shifts slightly, a bit cramped from how low the ceilings are— or rather, how tall he is in comparison to the intended residents. It’s something he’s accustomed to, though it never gets any more comfortable.

As he waits for the door to open, Eddie hears shuffling from inside, then the clunk of a lock. The door opens to reveal Waylon smiling weakly up at him, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks.

“H-hey Eddie.” Waylon says. “Thanks for... dropping by... and bringing—” he gestures at the brownies. “You didn’t have to.”

Eddie smiles warmly, politely ignoring Waylon’s flushed face. Waylon really is cute, regardless of the circumstances they meet in. His messy hair and rumpled shirt look suspiciously like signs of someone who has just woken up. Clearly the fact that it’s nearly one in the afternoon means very little to Waylon’s sleep schedule. Eddie also refrains from commenting on that. 

“It was no problem, Waylon. It’s the least I could do. Would it be alright if I come in?” Eddie waits patiently as Waylon opens and closes his mouth a few times before responding. 

“Yeah, of-of course.” Waylon steps back and holds the door open for Eddie.

Eddie steps forward, ducking as he passes through the doorframe, and takes in the room around him. It’s a bit messy. Not the worst case he’s seen considering some of his peers’ habits, but he’d still never let the things go _this_ long without being washed. He feels a strong urge to bring the overflowing hamper down to the laundry room, dunk the dishes into the sink, and vacuum the deceptively “clean” carpet. 

Instead of doing any of those things, Eddie brings his attention back to Waylon’s choppy apology for the mess and reminds himself that it isn’t his place to impose like that.

“Sorry about the mess, I uh... wasn’t expecting... visitors...” Waylon looks uncomfortable, and Eddie realizes he should probably have told Waylon he planned to visit beforehand. He’d wanted it to be a surprise, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea with Waylon. Hopefully the unexpectedness isn’t too intrusive.

“Do you, wanna. Sit down?” Waylon pulls out the chair from his desk, offering it to Eddie. “I mean, if you’re staying. You’re probably visiting a bunch of us today, huh?” The awkward energy Waylon’s exuding is almost palpable.

Eddie gently sits down in the offered chair — a bit ungainly in such a short seat — and places the brownies on the desk next to him. It’s true; Eddie is going to check on at least five other people after seeing Waylon. However, he wants to impress on him that the visit is more than just a follow-up on recent events.

“I am, but that’s no reason I can’t stay for a while. I feel like we haven’t gotten the chance to talk to each other very much before or after the, ah, recent incidents.” Eddie frowns slightly at the thought of Blaire and Trager. The scumbags.

“Yeah, I guess we haven’t...” Waylon chews his bottom lip— a nervous habit, Eddie thinks.

Waylon paces before settling on the edge of Miles’ bed. He shoots Eddie a quick look, accompanied by a small, strained smile, before ducking his head. Eddie wonders what Waylon thinks when he averts his gaze like that.

Eddie turns the chair slightly to face Waylon more directly. Even though Waylon’s nervousness is not a surprise considering the circumstances, Eddie still pauses before starting off the conversation.

“I was glad to hear that Miles is stable and will be returning to campus soon. In the meantime, I know it might still feel unsafe to be in your dorm alone, considering. If there’s anything I or anyone else can do just let me know.”

Eddie chooses his next words carefully. “Blaire has committed his most extreme acts of violence against you. It is truly despicable, but I don’t want you to think that is the only reason I am here right now. In truth, I've found you to be a delightful individual from the moment I met you. It’s unfortunate that these are to be the circumstances that we first talk at length under. Rehearsals and fittings haven’t really qualified.”

Waylon briefly glances up from his lap before returning his attention to where his hands are playing with the hem of his shirt. Eddie catches himself before he reaches out and takes Waylon’s hands in his own.

“Thanks Eddie,” Waylon croaks out. “This really... means a lot to me. But, I’ll be fine.” He lifts his head and shoots Eddie another weak smile. The small, joyless chuckle that makes its way past his lips squeezes Eddie’s heart.

That vague future tense of ‘being fine’ makes no promises of when it will come, but was clearly spoken as a way to dispel immediate concerns. In other words, a transparent lie. Eddie remembers a time when he would have said the same. He wasn’t fine then, and Waylon needs more time and help to be fine now.

Eddie’s first instinct is to reach over and grab Waylon’s hand— or pull him into a tight hug. Of course, he can’t do that. This isn’t the time to end up accidentally confessing his attraction to Waylon. That would be the worst thing to do right now; Waylon is in an emotionally vulnerable state. No, Eddie needs to keep his visit strictly platonic. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

In fact, Eddie is wondering if he should have made up his mind to have a long visit with Waylon. Other than the issue at hand, he’s not sure what to talk about. Even if he did have an idea, is there really anything that wouldn’t be out of place at a time like this?

He pushes those doubts aside for now to respond to Waylon. “My offer stands as long as you need it,” then, on a related note, “How are you feeling about the quilt tomorrow evening? Do you think you know what you’d like your addition to be?”

Waylon seems to think for a moment before saying, “I... haven’t really decided. But I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Eddie hadn’t really expected Waylon to have a concrete idea of his piece yet, but perhaps a general sense. He can’t fault Waylon, though. The quilt is more about catharsis and awareness than meticulous planning.

“That’s alright; you don’t have to know just yet. I’m sorry if my question made you feel pressured— I was simply curious.” Eddie wonders if it feels awkward for him to be sitting at the desk while Waylon sits on the bed. The setup seems more suited to a brief visit. He realizes he’s never noticed how he and Val sit when they are relaxing, and can’t remember enough to put it into practice here.

Waylon’s eyes widen slightly. Eddie vaguely hears Waylon mumble something before trailing off into a small cough. Eddie is a bit worried that he missed something important Waylon wanted to say. He hesitates, but decides to keep hunting for a good entry point to a more comfortable topic. He’s sure Waylon will repeat whatever it was if it becomes relevant again.

”What is software engineering like? I’m not much of a technology person, but I can appreciate the skill needed for the craft,” Eddie internally cringes at the abrupt topic switch, but continues in an attempt to keep the conversation almost natural. Besides, there will be plenty of time to discuss Blaire and Trager the next day. It would be best that those discussions happened with people who shared experiences featuring those two anyways. “I have been in the process of setting up my portfolio website for the past three years,“ Eddie chuckles. “At this rate, it’ll be done once I’ve retired.”

Eddie’s attempt at humor is rewarded with a subdued laugh from Waylon. “Oh yeah, software engineering? It’s... well, it’s fun. I mean, it is for me. Computers are just... they’re easy. If-then. And-or.”

Eddie smiles as Waylon starts explaining what he loves about software engineering. Out of all of Waylon’s expressions, this is one of Eddie’s favorites. Seeing Waylon excited like this fills him with fondness. _Waylon_ fills him with fondness.

“You never have to guess what you’re gonna get, if you know the formulas. You just plug everything in and the computer does exactly what you need. Every time. And— sorry, I’m rambling.” Waylon licks his lips nervously and clamps his jaw shut. His face is turning pink, and again Eddie allows Waylon his dignity by not commenting on it.

“No, no, I enjoy hearing about new things! Especially from someone with as much passion for it as you,” Eddie hopes this is enough to at least start convincing Waylon that it’s alright for him to open up about his interests with Eddie. He already misses Waylon’s enthusiastic smile.

Eddie swears Waylon’s blush deepens before he redirects the question. “What about you? How’s, uh, illustration?”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth threaten to turn up into a wide smile at Waylon’s flushed face and tentative one. He manages to keep his own more controlled, but barely. He hums lightly.

“Illustration is going very well. We’re working on our portfolios and preparing for the internships next semester. My interests are mainly in fashion design — although I’m sure that’s not a surprise — and although that isn’t offered here, the fourth year gives Illustration students the freedom to hone in on their niche.”

Eddie is second guessing the path he’s taking the conversation down. Falling into the usual ‘fields of study conversation between college students’ seems a bit too impersonal. But… it might be good to get to know Waylon through his academic work first, then lead into other topics. Val, at least, would be happy that he’s finally talking to Waylon ‘for real’.

“What immersion do you plan to declare? I know many people like to pair their major with one that supplements or enhances their main studies.” The wording is a bit dry, but will hopefully keep the conversation flowing.

“I, um. I’m doing applied statistics. Seems useful,” Waylon raises his shoulders slightly.

Eddie decides to pursue this thread in hopes that they can begin to discuss non-school topics. Something more personal and less like an interview for one of Murkoff Institute of Technology’s orientation films. “I don’t think I’ve taken a proper math class since freshman year, though I do hear that statistics is the most useful math for your average non-STEM person. What do you plan on using it for?”

“Um, yeah. Statistics can be good for everyday stuff.” Waylon pauses, thinking. Then he shrugs. “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be interesting. Miles says I should use it for card-counting though. Heh.”

Waylon’s rapid blinking is easily recognizable as a way to stop tears from escaping. Eddie wonders if it would be better to offer comfort or ignore it as he has been the blushing.

Eddie opts for something in between. He picks up the plate of brownies and offers it to Waylon.

“Card counting? I recognize the phrase, but I can’t say I’m familiar with how it works.”

Waylon bites his bottom lip, but accepts a brownie from Eddie. Eddie tries to stop focusing on Waylon’s tics so much. There’s nothing helpful about noticing the way Waylon’s mouth moves, or how his hands busy themselves whenever he’s feeling tense.

Crumbs fall on the bed when Waylon takes a bite, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Eddie places the plate down near Waylon so he can reach for a second brownie easily.

“Card counting is for blackjack and, uh, similar games. Basically, it uses statistics to remove the uncertainty of the game and lets you win every time. If you do it right. It’s a neat trick, and I guess it might be cool to try with friends.” Waylon shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting in a similar movement. “Course, if a casino catches you doing it, they blacklist you, so…”

Waylon trails off, glancing off to the side.

Based on Waylon’s description of computer work and card counting — whether or not he plans to use statistics for that — he seems to prefer dealing in certainties. Eddie thinks about what Blaire said to Waylon at the rehearsal and wonders how Waylon is feeling about interacting with Eddie now. Waylon hasn’t seemed completely comfortable during the conversation, although that could be explained by the recent attack by Blaire and Miles’s injuries.

Still, Eddie has to wonder. Has he been clear enough in his opinion of Waylon? How can he be sure how Waylon will react to him? Should he be more direct? Would... would Waylon be comfortable knowing just how much Eddie likes him?

Eddie firmly reminds himself that he needs to take _all_ parts of the current situation into account. This is the second time his thoughts have wandered into tonally unsuitable territory. Admitting his attraction to Waylon would give him the comfort of knowing where he stands with Eddie, but doing so would be grossly inappropriate right now. It wouldn’t be fair to add further burden to Waylon’s emotional processing.

Instead, he asks, “Do you play cards often? Val likes to join the illustrators’ game nights and brings me along. You’d be welcome to join sometime — there are traditional tabletop games along with some electronic ones — and people from other majors are often guests as well.”

Hopefully the invitation shows that Eddie enjoys Waylon’s company. Eddie would hate to think that Waylon still considers his own presence a grievance to Eddie.

Waylon licks his lips, “Thanks for the offer. I don’t usually play cards, but I’ll... keep that in mind.” Eddie sees Waylon turning something over in his mind before asking, “Could Miles come too?”

“Of course,” Eddie smiles. “Anyone you want to bring is welcome to come. And as I said, there are other games if you’d prefer them. You could also watch if that’s more comfortable. Sometimes I accompany Val without joining and it is just as enjoyable.”

Waylon does seem to get nervous around new people, or maybe groups in general. Eddie hasn’t seen Waylon in many social situations, but he knows it was Miles’s idea for Waylon to audition for the play to begin with. Miles is clearly an encouraging presence in Waylon’s life, which makes his hospitalization all the worse for Waylon. Eddie hopes Waylon has other close friends he can go to for support in the meantime. The Discord group is helpful in the way it was meant to be, but has its limitations.

The sureness of Waylon’s nod is reassuring to Eddie and suggests that Waylon is seriously considering the offer.

“That... means a lot. I— thank you.” Waylon shoots Eddie another one of his nervous smiles before taking a few more bites out of his brownie. Eddie is curious as to whether or not Waylon enjoys the brownie, or is simply substituting the dessert for his bottom lip.

“I look forward to seeing you if you decide to come.” A good balance of optimistic yet non-pressuring; at least, Eddie thinks so.

Eddie gestures towards a tech crew shirt on one of the desks. “You and Miles are very close. How did you meet?”

Eddie knew their friendship had grown out of their investigation of Blaire last year, but he’d never asked about the details. Bonding through trauma, he supposed, but surely there would have been other ways they clicked to be each other’s pick for roommate.

“We actually met through a mutual friend. You know Simon Peacock? Well, yeah, we both knew him and kind of ended up hanging out.” Waylon shrugs, his demeanor having shifted from awkward to a touch melancholy. “I guess we just grew on each other.”

The name Simon calls to mind a tall junior with a noticeable accent. It would be hard to forget the executive editor of the _Informant_ , especially with Eddie being one of the magazine’s regular illustrators. It makes sense that Miles would know him, but Waylon’s connection is a bit more obscure.

“Yes, we work together at the _Informant_. He’s a good student, and overall pleasant fellow. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d introduce you to each other.” What was Simon’s major again? Something that puts him into contact with Waylon… Ah, right; computing and information technologies. And, of course, there’s his journalism minor with Miles.

Waylon nods and hums, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie is curious to hear about how Waylon and Miles’s investigation against Blaire went last year, but it’s probably time to consider a safer topic again. He decides to put off asking until tomorrow.

“We’re lucky to have him at the magazine. It’s a long way from New Zealand, but I’m glad he decided to come to MIT.” It must have been quite the decision for Simon to fly all this way for MIT, and was a testament to how renowned the college is.

Eddie shifts in the chair as he considers what else he wants to know about Waylon— aside from everything. Well, one thing he hasn’t asked before is, “What made you choose MIT?”

“Uh, well. It’s a pretty prestigious tech school. It was on my top three list. Then MIT gave me the most scholarships.” Waylon shrugs. “So, I came here.”

“I’m glad you did,” Eddie smiles. “Rehearsals wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Eddie wonders how long Waylon had planned to be a software engineer. STEM programs were on the rise in primary and secondary schools now, but probably not as prominently when Waylon was there. He _had_ said why he liked working with computers, but Eddie still wants to hear him talk about it again.

Waylon’s face is turning pink again, which he hides by ducking his head. Eddie draws a hand up to his mouth, not quite covering his wide grin. He doesn’t want Waylon to be uncomfortable, but Waylon’s shyness is endearing. Eddie wonders if it might actually be better for him to mention the blushing at some point with how frequent it is.

“Th-Thanks,” Waylon struggles with the one-word answer. He seems to struggle with getting himself to continue, then asks, “What about you? You’re not really a... tech person.”

Waylon seems a bit more than just shy after asking Eddie why _he_ chose MIT. In any case, Eddie isn’t bothered by the phrasing. What Waylon said is true; Eddie doesn’t hide that.

“I admit it wasn’t my first choice, but as a legacy student my application was given some level of preferential treatment, and the tuition nearly took care itself— aside from a few scholarships,” Eddie tilts his head down slightly and shakes his head. “I don’t quite understand the purpose for ‘legacies’, but that’s what it ultimately came down to. MIT is a good school, even if they don’t have my preferred major exactly.”

Eddie’s mind drifts to his friends’ journeys to Murkoff Institute. So different from his, yet so familiar and somehow comforting. The second chance they never thought they’d have.

“Ah, that-that makes sense,” Waylon says, then goes quiet again. Is Waylon’s discomfort increasing as Eddie draws the conversation out? Eddie can’t be sure, but he seems to be thinking longer and saying less. Come to think of it, Waylon had been in bed before Eddie arrived. Maybe Waylon needs some more rest. They could always talk later…

“It’s interesting to hear everyone’s reasons for picking MIT,” Eddie finds himself saying anyways, continuing the discussion of admittance. “Such disparate backgrounds, and yet here we are, together. There’s something almost… magical, or fateful, about it—” it’s Eddie’s turn to look down at his hands.

“I’m sorry, that must sound silly to you. I know you aren’t inclined to that kind of thinking,” he glances up at Waylon perched on the lofted bed. “I’m just— I get so… my friends are very precious to me. I am grateful for their presence in my life everyday.” He’s not sure why he’s saying this, but it feels good to tell Waylon.

Before Eddie can collect himself and shift gears, Waylon yells, “No!” jolting Eddie out of the introspective state he’d slipped into. He’s glad for it since the visit is supposed to be about Waylon, not Eddie. At the same time, he’s a bit alarmed at the strong reaction. For a moment, he's not sure how to respond. Once the initial shock begins to subside, he reviews his apology, hoping he’d worded it sensitively enough.

“I mean, no, it-it doesn’t sound silly. Well, I don’t really believe in fate or magic, or y’know. But. That doesn’t mean—well, I don’t think it’s _silly_ or-or anything.” Waylon _really_ stumbles over his words as he tries to explain the outburst.

There’s a certain urgency to it that Eddie hasn’t heard Waylon use with him before, adding to Eddie's concern.

There’s a moment of silence before Waylon asks, “So, uh… How’s MIT been for you?”

Waylon’s question fully pulls Eddie back to the present. He realizes he hadn’t said anything to reassure Waylon after the brief outburst. That’s not good. Despite that, things don’t seem to have ground to a complete halt. Waylon’s awkward attempt to brush past the fumble is just that— a bit clunky, but not unwelcome.

“It’s been,” Eddie reconsiders his instinctive wording and continues, “arguably the best years of my life. Not perfect— nothing is, I know, but it’s more than I could ever have hoped for. I have the opportunity to learn, explore my interests, and friends who care about each other. I feel like the luckiest man alive.” He was hesitant to return to the sentimentality that caused the last misstep, but answering this way feels right.

It’s almost surreal to imagine that Waylon knows the more personal details of what anyone could have easily found by doing a cursory search of Eddie online. The media paints his life in the broadest of strokes, and in a rather ugly light, to be frank. It makes him glad that Waylon knows his version of the events. Some of them, anyways. The ones that were relevant to mention, given the circumstances.

He wonders if Waylon knows about what happens next in that story, after he goes from victim to perpetrator. It’s more than likely. People who are around him for longer than a few days tend to hear about it, look it up. The fact that he hasn’t been shunned because of it… well, Eddie is continuously amazed by people’s capacity for forgiveness.

Waylon nods along as Eddie speaks, some of his awkwardness seeming to drain out of him as he does. "Well, I think everyone here's lucky to have you. I mean, er, everyone in the group. You're-you're doing so much. To help."

Other people have expressed similar sentiments to him during his four years here, with varying levels of stammering, but it warms his heart to hear it from Waylon. He had a difficult time accepting the compliment before, but got better with time.

Eddie lets out a chuckle, “I’m glad you think so. I only have two hands and 24 hours in a day, so I just do my best.”

His heart still tells him he’ll never be able to make up for what he did, but he knows it’s healthier to focus on the progress he _has_ made and _will_ make. That’s the only way he can successfully live the rest of his life “normally”.

Turning the focus back to Waylon, Eddie says, “Of course, you’re welcome to my time whenever you need it.”

As soon as he finishes the sentence, Eddie feels a bit of heat creeping up his neck. His tone of voice had been fine, but the wording… surely he accidentally made the wording sound suggestive? He’d only meant it as a friendly gesture—

“Th-thank you!” Waylon squeaks out, face pink.

The response doesn’t seem promising, but Eddie smiles and nods at Waylon. He chooses to interpret that as Waylon’s usual adorable awkwardness. Thankfully, it feels like the conversation is coming to a natural close. As much as he wants to spend more time with Waylon, he should let Waylon get some rest.

Eddie stands, still a bit hunched over thanks to the too-low ceiling, and opens his mouth to say goodbye when he realizes something. “Oh, I don’t believe you have my phone number. I could give it to you if you’d like. And I’d like to put yours into my contacts, if that’s agreeable.”

“Oh-oh yeah. That’s great. That’s, yeah. Uh, let me just—” Waylon grabs his phone and moves to stand next to Eddie. He’s not a small man— 6’ 1” is actually considered on the tall side. But next to Eddie, the height and build difference creates the illusion that Waylon is whole lot shorter, and thinner, than he actually is. If Eddie were to hug him, Waylon would be completely engulfed. Eddie stops himself from seeing how that particular scenario would play out.

Eddie takes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, then reaches down and exchanges the phone for Waylon’s. Thankfully, adding contacts is a simple thing to do, so he can do it without getting lost. He enters his name, mobile number, and both school and personal emails. He hesitates when he gets to address and birthday, debating about whether to put those in, too. It’s not strictly necessary, but Eddie wants to give Waylon the choice to keep or delete them.

Eddie types his MIT apartment address into the first address slot. That’s still within the realm of contacting him, so is appropriate for this information exchange. He decides to leave out his birthday, though, since that could put pressure on Waylon to get him a gift.

Eddie thinks he catches Waylon grinning as he hands back the phone, but it’s gone too quickly to be sure. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you for a while; I’ll let you get some rest. I’m off to the UAA now. I look forward to seeing you there tomorrow.”

Waylon seems to again be caught off-guard by Eddie resuming the conversation, stammering out, “Y-Yeah. Tomorrow. And thanks again. For visiting, and for the— For the brownies.” Waylon gestures at the plate where thirty-five still sit.

“It was my pleasure,” Eddie smiles. He tucks in the chair and begins making his way to the door. Waylon walks him there like a host at the end of an evening, albeit in a messy t-shirt and shorts.

Eddie turns as he ducks under the doorframe to tip an imaginary hat in Waylon’s direction, “Until tomorrow.”

The strip between the door and frame shrinks, blocking more of Waylon until only his waving arm can be seen, then just wood. Eddie takes a moment to let the sensation of Waylon’s presence linger in his mind. He’s glad he finally got over his silly worries about talking to Waylon at length. In spite of the unavoidable awkwardness, he really enjoyed himself. After the Blaire situation is over, maybe they could get lunch sometime.

Eddie hums to himself all the way to the meeting in the United Alumni Association building.


End file.
